


I dream her dreams

by ottertrashpalace



Series: I guess we're calling it Crewt [3]
Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: ARGH, Angst, Canon Divergence, Dysphoria, First Kiss, Fluff, Gender Identity, Hurt/Comfort, I'm sorry I like Jacob I just like the gays better, M/M, Mary Lou Barebone is Her Own Warning, Mentions of past abuse, OFCs - Freeform, OMCs - Freeform, Other, Recovery, cross-dressing, dancing and kissing, everything you know and love is gay, fuck stereotypes, genderqueer!credence, inspired vaguely by ezra miller and also the danish girl, internalzied transphobia, let credence wear dresses, newt is an accepting beautiful person, queenie's gay, really they're just plot devices, still within the universe of this series though, tina's a raging bisexual, transphobic language, vaguely
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-18
Updated: 2016-12-21
Packaged: 2018-09-09 11:51:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,326
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8889700
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ottertrashpalace/pseuds/ottertrashpalace
Summary: There are an eternity of dresses in Queenie's closet, or so it seems to Credence. He tries not to think about them too much.





	1. Something different

There were so many dresses. Rows and rows of them, in every conceivable color— pink and green and yellow and blue and all covered in beads and sequins. Credence let his fingers brush along the skirt of a pale purple number, tracing the careful embroidery. He heard footsteps, though, and snapped his arm back to his side. Queenie had him in here to measure him for new clothes, not for him to be nosing around in her private possessions.

Queenie came into the room a second later, a curious expression on her face. She seemed to decide that whatever question she had wasn’t worth pursuing, though, and simply set down the brown package that contained the material she planned to use on her dresser. Not five seconds later, she had summoned a tape measure and was getting to work. She was a very chatty person, Queenie, not that Credence minded particularly. There was something soothing about the cadence of her mindless small talk. He only needed to nod or hum on occasion and she would do the rest of the work.

“Of course, Newt’s quite awful about this stuff. Have you seen the man? He has three scratchy white shirts, three pairs of black woolen trousers, and only a single set of plain, musty dress robes! I can’t imagine how he ever gets by in civilized society.”

“Dress robes?” Credence asked.

“Oh, yes! Dress robes. You see, wizards wear robes instead of suits like no-majes do. Though, I suppose, it’s rather fallen out of fashion in recent years since they started tightening the Statue of Secrecy so dramatically. We need to blend in and all that.” She squinted a bit. “Don’t worry dear, I doubt you’ll be needing them regardless. They’re rather uncomfortable, I hear, what with the tight collars.”

In no time at all, she had magicked together a set of clothes, two grey pairs of pants, two white shirts, and a sensible coat, folded neatly on the dresser. Credence collected them carefully in his arms, still awed by the capabilities of this power that he’d always hidden from himself.

“Thank you so much, Queenie.” He told her.

“Don’t mention it, dear. It’s quite fun to have someone to sew for who’s not Tina. Lovely girl, no sense of pizazz.”

Credence half-smiled at that. Tina’s clothes were all very sensible and drab, unlike Queenie’s closet of wonders.

He was halfway out the door when Queenie spoke again. “Credence— if you ever want something—if you want to have a little more… pizazz… of your own… just ask, alright, honey?”

It was an odd sentence. Credence immediately pushed it out of his mind, avoiding whatever she was trying to imply. He nodded, once, and left again with a second “thank you.”

That night, he was woken in media res by an uncomfortable nightmare. It was mostly about Ma, as they usually were, but he was lucky enough this time not to panic upon waking. Instead, he just shifted the covers quietly and left the bed, careful not to wake Newt. He found himself in the bathroom, staring at his own reflection in the mirror.

His hair had grown out considerably since he’d been at the church, and it framed his face almost like Tina’s did, reaching down past his ears. It was messy and disheveled from sleep, and he attempted to rearrange it into something resembling a bob. He still had rather sharp features, with high cheekbones and arched eyebrows, despite having eaten well since he came home with Newt. His lips were thin, and he wondered audaciously what they would look like smeared with red lipstick. The dark, guilty pleasure that it gave him was addictive, but he was startled out if his reverie when he heard soft, padding footsteps outside of the bathroom.

“Credence?” Came Newt’s croaking, sleepy voice.

“I’m alright,” Credence said automatically.

“Can I come in?” 

“...yes.”

They stood in silence for a little while, both facing the mirror. Newt seemed concerned.

“I’m sorry I woke you, I meant to just get up for a bit.” Credence explained, as if this wasn’t a fairly regular occurrence.

Newt shook his head. “It’s fine, I just… Queenie mentioned something earlier. Sort of slipped out. I’m sure it didn’t mean much—“

Credence tensed.

“—She said you liked her dresses.”

_He knows He knows I’m a freak, a repulsive deviant, he knows he knows he knows_

“They’re nice dresses,” Credence manages, his knuckles white. _I can’t show him what a fool I am, how sick I am in the head_

“Credence… it’s alright. You can like the dresses. Hell, you could wear them. I mean, you’d have to ask Queenie, but I don't think she would mind.”

Credence glanced at Newt incredulously with blurry eyes. “You don’t understand,” he croaked. “It’s always like this, I’ve always been disgusting and queer— Ma caught me playing with Chastity’s dolls when I was five, it was the first time she beat me so bad—“ Credence was crying now. The words were spilling out like he’d broken a dam somewhere inside. “so bad I couldn’t walk. Don’t you see? You should hate me! I’ve not a creature of God. It’s unnatural, it’s wrong, and I couldn’t—could never stop it, I’m too weak.” He spat the last word like it was poison. 

Newt was speechless. He had always suspected that there was some reason that Mary Lou hated Credence more than the rest of her adopted children, but he would never have guessed that this, something so pure and innocent to Newt’s estimation, would have been it. It made him madder than words could say.

He stepped forwards and gently caught Credence’s wrists from where they were pressed to his face, trembling. 

“Credence… Credence, it’s fine. It’s all fine. I don’t hate you, and I never will, especially not for something like this. Listen to me, love, please.” He led Credence’s wrists to his chest level, grasping them softly, and looked the boy in the eyes. “It’s okay if you want to wear dresses. Your Ma was a bloody evil woman, and she was wrong. You can do anything you like with your clothes, your hair—any of that. It’s all yours. I’ll—I’ll help you, if you like.” He paused. Credence was breathing a little easier now, with a look of apprehensive wonder on his face. “Maybe not just this moment, though. We ought to sleep, yes?” He left the statement open-ended, giving Credence room to make his own choices.

The boy nodded, after hesitating a little. He allowed Newt to lead him gently back to the bedroom, and slipped under the covers. 

Newt couldn’t help himself. “You’re a miracle, Credence,” he whispered, and gave his forehead a feather-light kiss. They were both asleep within five minutes.


	2. Out

The next morning, Newt was awake before Credence. This was unusual, and Newt supposed with some concern that the previous night had really taken it out of the young man.

  
He wandered in to the kitchen and found Tina and Queenie eating breakfast, talking in hushed tones. They quieted when he entered.

  
“Morning, you two.” he said. “Queenie, when you have a moment, I, ah, have a request.”

  
The sisters exchanged meaningful looks.  
“Well, I’ll be off to work,” Tina mumbled. “I don’t suppose you’ll be joining me?”  
“Merlin, no,” Queenie replied with a wave of her hand. “It’s Sunday, darling, what on Earth has Graves roped you into this time?”

  
“You know I can’t say,” Tina chastised. “At any rate, I’ll see you late tonight. Have a good day.”

  
Tina and her mug of coffee were out the door in an instant.

  
“The real Mr. Graves is feeling better, then?” Newt asked after a while.

  
“Marginally better, yes, but that’s not what you wanted to ask me about,” replied Queenie. She set her croissant down and leaned her forearms on the table with a sigh. “You don’t have to explain it to me, I felt what he was thinking when I left him alone with my dresses. He craves it so badly.”

  
“I know,” Newt said helplessly, “I just don’t know how to convince him that it’s not wrong, what he wants.”

  
“It’ll take time.” Queenie said. “I imagine it’s the kind of thing that one could change with a word or a flick of wand.”

  
“I’d like to get him a dress.” Newt said suddenly. The idea very much appealed to him, and he could imagine the awe in Credence’s eyes if he unfolded a dress that was his to wear and cherish.

  
“I think that’s a stellar idea,” Queenie agreed. “But for now, I think he should borrow the dark blue one that’s in the very back of my closet. It’s always been a bit long for me, and I never got around to shrinking it.” She leaned back and summoned it. It was very nice indeed, with fine beadwork and a lacy trim. “Go on, why don’t you show it to him when he wakes up.”

  
“Queenie… don’t you think that you ought to be the one to help him with it? I haven’t the faintest idea—really, it’s been quite a while since I dealt with one of these things.” Newt hadn’t been close with a woman since Leta, nearly ten years ago, and he'd only ever had a brother growing up.

  
Queenie just gave a sphinx’s smile and shook her head. “He trusts you more than anything, Newt. It should be you. Do it when you think the time is right.”  
And so it was that Newt stowed the dress away in his case, waiting for that time.

  
A few days later, Credence seemed fully recovered from the bad night. He still had nightmares, of course, but he hadn’t had a panic attack in over two days, so Newt figured that it was as good a time as any to try again.

  
“Credence, would you come here for a second?” He called. They’d been having a rather lazy afternoon, tending to the creatures without major incident and participating in a relaxing group grooming session that involved Dougal, Picket, and some of the birds.

  
Credence appeared at the door of the shed, curious. “What is it?” He asked.

  
“Queenie and I wanted to give you something, if you want it.” Newt answered carefully. He then pulled the blue dress from its hiding space, and watched Credence carefully as he processed the gift and all it implied.  
Credence was silent, staring at the dress with equal parts fear and desire.

  
“Do you want to try it on?” Newt asked, still keeping his voice quiet and neutral.

  
As if in a trance, Credence took it and went into the small closet on the side where Newt dried his plants. Newt turned to his workbench to give the boy privacy, and prayed that he wouldn’t panic again. He wanted this to be a positive experience for the both of them.

  
After a little while, he heard footsteps. He turned, slowly, and was greeted with a stunning sight. The dress fit Credence’s slender form like a glove, and seemed to make his pale skin glow. His hair was long and messy, but when he tucked it behind his ear, eyes downcast, Newt could not picture a more stunning depiction of beauty.

  
“I’ll-I’ll just—“ Credence turned swiftly back into the closet, hunched in shame.

  
“No, wait! You look wonderful.” Newt said desperately.

  
“You don’t have to humor me.” Came a flat reply.

  
“I’m not, really. It suits you.”

  
Credence looked at him searchingly. "Why would you ever want to see me like this?”

  
“It’s you, Credence” Newt answered candidly, “and you’re beautiful.”

  
A single tear traced its way down Credence’s cheek, and Newt closed the distance between him, holding him close. “You ought to let Queenie paint up your face sometime, she would love to do it for you.” The sobbing at his chest intensified.

  
They stood there for ages, and Newt just rocked Credence gently until he is breathing evened.

  
"Answer this for me, Credence, do you like wearing it ?" Newt whispered.

  
Credence looked up. "Yes," he answered, his voice trembling.

  
Newt had an overwhelming desire to kiss him. He leaned in, almost subconsciously, but at the last minute veered off and planted the kiss softly on Credence's cheek. He couldn't do that to Credence, not when he was still recovering and the power imbalance between them was still great.

"Then you should wear it whenever you like," Newt told him firmly.

  
And with that, Credence leaned in and pressed their mouths together, almost desperately, and Newt just melted into his embrace. They were both crying now.  
"What a mess we are," Newt murmured wetly when they broke apart. Credence laughed a little, and it was the purest sound Newt thought he had ever heard.

  
"I--I'm sorry, I just--" Credence stuttered, but Newt hushed him gently.  
"Don't apologize for this, love. Never for this. We're okay." He let his hand cup Credence's cheek, and the boy's eyes closed reverently like he was receiving communion.

  
"Do you want to go upstairs and show Queenie?" Newt asked hesitantly. "She'd be thrilled."

  
Credence shook his head vehemently. This worried Newt, though he understood why it might be the case.

  
"Alright. If you don't mind me asking, love, why not?" He said.

  
"I-- I guess I just want to do it here. For you. It's something for us."

  
Newt's heart cracked at that, and he was crying again. He wrapped Credence up in his arms, and pulled them close. "That's all right, that's perfectly all right. If you ever want to change that, that's alright too, but this is about you. You can do whatever you want."

  
They stayed like that for ages, hands arms tangled up around each other, the smell of wood and earth surrounding them. Newt felt the curve of Credence's waist through the satin and wondered exactly how he'd gotten this lucky.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew, hope you liked that h/c fest. Subscribe for more soft queer boys and supportive Queenie


	3. Dinner

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Explanation and revalation

The Goldsteins were having a party. Tina spoke to Newt briefly about it about a week in advance, both so that he could keep his creatures under wraps and for Credence’s sake. 

“We know he has a hard time with people, generally, but these are all friends of ours. I think it’ll be good for him.” Tina explained.

Newt nodded hesitantly. He knew objectively that Tina was right, and Credence’s social struggles would never improve if he just stayed with Newt in the case all day. This was a nice alternative to going outside again so soon, after the Horklump debacle. In his heart, though, he ached for Credence. He’d never particularly liked parties himself, and to imagine what that would be like with Credence’s background made him rather sick to his stomach.

Newt took his time telling Credence about it. He didn’t want to give him time to stew in anticipation, or drop it on him at the last minute. It was three days later, in the end. Newt waited until they were in the case, which was starting to become status quo for telling Credence these sorts of things. Both of them seemed more relaxed down there, working with the creatures.

Credence had been cautiously feeding the ashwinders. They were the last of the resident of the suitcase to take a liking to Credence, and he sort of suspected that it was because of how he tended to jump away from then whenever they started to glow. 

“Credence,” came Newt’s voice.

Credence stood up and turned around to face him. 

“I just thought I’d warn you—Tina and Queen are going to be having a party.” Newt said. “You don’t have to go, of course, but they asked me to tell you that you’re certainly invited.”

Credence didn’t know quite what to say. Ma had certainly never liked parties— _the domain of devil and all his vices_ —and he’d never so much as glanced into a club. He supposed that it might be a bit like the gatherings that Mary Lou had at the church sometimes, when she would speak to the crowd about witchcraft. He tried to imagine that scene, but instead with four or five people who were like Tina and Queenie. This was difficult.

“Who is coming?” He asked. 

“Oh—er, I actually don’t know. They’re some of Queenie and Tina’s friends. I’m sure they’re lovely,” Newt stammered.

This worried Credence. What if he were to go dark, while they were there? He could hurt them so easily. Not to mention that he was sure that they wouldn’t like him—he’d never been good with people.

_Freak._

“Penny for your thoughts, love?” came Newt’s voice.

Credence just shook his head. “I’m not sure I want to,” he said quietly.

“That’s understandable,” Newt replied. “Perhaps—you should ask Queenie and Tina about their friends, though, before you decide. Just a suggestion.”

This sounded reasonable to Credence. After all, who was he to make judgements about someone he hadn’t met? 

That night, they all ate dinner together in the apartment. It was a bit of a rare thing, since Tina usually didn’t come home until much later. Queenie had made goulash. Goulash was not something that Credence was familiar with, but like most of Queenie’s cooking, it was delicious anyway.

Queenie was going on about Jacob the baker and the day she’d spent at his shop—Credence didn’t remember a Jacob, but Newt and Tina seemed to know who this man was so he just listened politely.

“Oh—my goodness! How could I have forgotten? Credence, dear, you need to hear about our party on Saturday.”

Queenie’s mind-reading (what was the fancy term? Legilimency) was sometimes inopportune, but she had struck the right note this time. 

Credence nodded. “Thank you for inviting me,” he said.

“Oh, our pleasure!” Queenie replied, “we do hope you’ll make it, you know, we just want you to be comfortable. You see—these friends of ours, they’re… well, I suppose you would call them queer—“

Tina hit her sister’s arm with reproach. “Queenie, you know that’s not how—“

“It’s what everyone else calls us, Tina, we might as well embrace it.”

Us?

Newt must have seen the confusion on his face. “Is that alright with you, Credence?”

“I—I suppose” He replied. “I’m just not…”

“There are a lot of people like this around here, sweetie.” Queenie jumped in. “You see, for instance, I go out with women, not men.” 

She let that sink in. Credence’s mind was whirling. This was exactly the kind of thing his Ma would have preached fire and brimstone about. _Sin, debauchery, evil, unnatural—_ words popped in his mind like poisonous bubbles. And yet, here Queenie was, so happy and open about all of it. 

Who was he to judge others, after all?

“…you’ll meet my beaux, if you come. Her name is Bess. She likes to dress as a man—she’s a bulldagger.”

Bull-whatsis or not, Credence could see the softness in Queen’s eyes when she talked about Bess; a sort of softness he’d never seen even in his sister’s eyes, let alone Ma’s. It seemed familiar, though, and he wondered why.

“I think I’d like to come,” he said quietly.

“That’s splendid,” Tina said with a gentle smile.

The sisters cleared the table with a swipe of their wands, but they left some of the plates on the counter, as usual. Credence always liked to wash them by hand; it cleared his mind. As he was scrubbing, he thought about Queenie and Bess. He needed to remind himself not to think it odd, despite his knee-jerk reaction. If he was going to meet these people, these friends of Tina and Queenie’s, he desperately wanted to be comfortable around them. Ma’s voice was always in the back of his head, telling him that these people were disgusting sinners, but she was wrong about witches and Credence knew she was wrong about this too. The way Queenie looked when she talked about Bess was proof of that. It was like the way Newt looked when he talked about his creatures, or —

oh.

_Oh._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this was a bit of a filler. If chapter four isn't up when you're reading this, it's coming soon! hope you liked


	4. The party

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the title says it all

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note on language: it was common in the 20's for members of the queer community to use some language amongst themselves we might consider to be slurs today. nothing horrible, but just so you know

The day of the party arrived quickly. Credence had learned that the other two friends were named Walter and Irene. They were together, Tina explained, but kept it under wraps because Walter liked to dress up sometimes. That’s how she’d said it, anyway. Credence eventually realized that she meant that Walter would put on dresses and go to clubs. This really shocked him, to realize that other men liked to do that sort of thing too. The party didn't seem quite so scary all of the sudden. The fog of shame and secrecy that had always surrounded his desire to wear women's clothing started to clear a little bit. Newt had seen him, the Goldsteins knew about it, and now there was the mysterious Walter, who did it frequently and in _public._ It was frankly miraculous.

Newt was starting to think that he was more apprehensive about the party than Credence was. He’d grown up on a farm in Sussex, and while his mum and dad had never been particularly strict, there hadn’t exactly been room for… difference. At Hogwarts, he’d heard about one pair of boys who were together, in the Hufflepuff dorms. The others in  the house left them alone, but he’d seen a group of older Gryffindors cornering one of them in the courtyard once and turned the other cheek. Rumors had flown about Professor Dumbledore for years, and none of them were nice. Newt thought he had found the answer to his lingering question in the immense gravity of Leta Lestrange, and left it at that. But now— he hadn’t felt the way the felt about Credence in a long time, maybe ever. 

His watch knocked against his stomach on its chain. It must be time to clean up, then. He got up from the dirt by the Occamy nest and dusted off his pants. 

He had an old set of dress robes in his closet, but they were old and musty and left over from his Hogwarts days, so he decided to just put on a clean pair of trousers. Now, where was his nice shirt—?

And there, sitting conspicuously on his workbench, was a pristine pile of clothing. There was an origami swan on top, which unfolded itself elegantly in his palm:

_Here’s something nice to wear, for once. The fabric is supposed to be spill-resistant but I wouldn’t test it too much what with all the crazy junk you keep in that case of yours. Much love, Queenie_

Newt found himself grinning. How incredibly sweet of her. He changed awkwardly into the getup, which proved to be an odd hybrid of purple velvet dress robes and a black Muggle suit. Being Queenie's work, of course, it fit him perfectly.

He emerged from the case to find Credence wearing his good coat, sitting on the bed and wringing his hands nervously. He looked up sharply when he heard Newt, and his hands dropped to his sides.

“Alright?” Newt asked gently. It hurt him to see Credence so anxious, but the more he heard about Walter and Irene and Bess, the more convinced he was that it would all be worth it.

Credence ducked his head. “I think so.”

“Here—“ Newt reached forward and fussed lightly Credence’s hair. After it had grown out, it had gotten rather messy, but Newt didn’t dare suggest they cut it. He tucked the strands into something resembling order with practiced fingers, trying not to notice the way Credence’s eyes fluttered shut at the touch. “There,” be finished quietly. “Shall we?”

Credence eyed the door with apprehension that quickly shifted to determination. He nodded.

They only waited in the parlor for a few moments before their guests arrived. The small space was immediately filled with friendly chatter. Bess was large, dark, and personable, wearing a perfectly ironed pair of trousers and sharp bowtie. She and Queenie immediately fit to each other’s sides, like they’d never been apart. Irene was smaller and unassuming by contrast, with a fashionably sleek bob. Walter was a slim man, with doe-like eyes. He was wearing a shimmering ruby dress, with shoes and lipstick to match. Newt could practically _feel_ Credence’s shock, passing through him like seismic waves. The boy stayed quiet, though.

“Credence, is it?” Walter said efficaciously, sticking out his hand. “I’m Walter.”

This man both stunned and intrigued Credence. The most overwhelming impression he got was of beauty.

“Pleased to meet you,” he said, shaking Walter’s hand politely. 

“Gosh, you really do have the best cheekbones—“ Walter scrutinized Credence’s face, causing him to shrink back a tad. “Just a touch of lipstick and you'd be a hell of a fairy!”

“Walt, stop harassing the poor boy,” said Irene, appearing at his elbow. 

“It’s alright,” Credence murmured, entranced, as Walter turned to Queenie and Bess and called “turn on the music!”

With that, some magical version of a phonograph started playing a record of its own accord, and some husky jazz singer’s voice filled the room. The two couples immediately started dancing, and Tina dragged Newt in at some point. This made Credence’s chest burn, though he wasn’t quite sure why.

Irene conjured a bottle of alcohol, which Credence avoided, but soon the relaxed atmosphere became infectious. It was Walter—Walt, everyone called him— who got him dancing in the end, and Credence felt incredibly awkward, but he started to realize that it didn’t matter to anyone around him. Tina couldn’t dance any more than he did. In the end, he just let his limbs move however they wanted, with Walt swishing intriguingly before him in that transfixing dress. 

After they had all tired of dancing, and the rest had drunk a few more glasses of alcohol, Walter started looking sideways at Credence a little more.

“Queenie, you got some red lipstick? Real, dark red lipstick? I think we should put some on Credence. Look at him, it's practically a sin not to.”

Queenie looked at Credence softly. “How do you feel about that, sweetheart?”

“Alright,” Credence agreed, feeling rather lazy and open.

“Come on, then,” said Walt imaptiently, taking Credence’s hand and tugging him down the hallway. Queenie and Bess were close behind, and Newt trailed in the back. Credence found himself in front of Queenie’s dresser mirror, with Walt rummaging through her makeup box.

“Aha!” he called, holding up a small silver tube. “Now, hold still, sweet stuff.”

He carefully painted the dark red onto Credence’s lips, and when Credence gathered the courage to look at the reflection in the mirror, he saw a different person. He looked demure, even beautiful. He didn’t think he’d ever seen so much of himself in his own reflection.

“You like that?” Walt asked him. 

Credence nodded, a smile creeping up on him. 

“Oh, come on, let’s try some eyeshadow, just a little.” Walt wheedled. Queenie protested halfheartedly as he continued to pick through her paints. 

In the end, Credence looked just as striking as Walt. He had long, black eyelashes, darkened lids, a spot of blush on both cheeks, and, of course, the deep matte lips.

“Beautiful,” Walt said, grinning. 

It was getting awfully late, and the guests started to file out. Queenie and Bess sequestered themelves subtly into a private room, and Irene and Walt disapparated from the doorstep outside. Tina was awfully tipsy and dead exhausted, and dozed off on the couch. Credence wondered where Newt had gotten to. He was almost giddy with an excitement, a sensation so novel to him he had trouble naming it. Of course, once he thought about it, he knew exactly where Newt was.

After knocking politely once on the cover, Credence climbed down the ladder into the case. He poked his head out of the shed, and saw that Newt was sitting in the mooncalf enclosure, stroking Amelia’s neck and looking careworn. 

“Newt?” He called. 

Newt’s head whipped over, and Credence immediately felt an flood of guilt. How long had he been down here? He started towards the hill.

“Are you alright?” He asked, after a while.

Newt’s face softened. “I’m alright. It’s just— parties were never my forte. I hope you enjoyed it.”

“I think I did,” Credence replied honestly. 

“You look wonderful,” Newt mumbled, looking down at his lap. Credence flushed. “Actually—I had a thought—“

Newt got up suddenly and started towards the shed. Credence followed. When he was at the door, Newt was holding something sparkly and blue. Credence’s dress.

“Would you like to?” Newt asked, holding it out.

He _asked_.

And just like that, Credence didn't want anything more. He turned around and changed right there, not caring whether Newt was watching or not.

Newt stared at the floor to give Credence his privacy. This new side of him made Newt's heart beat like it was trying to run away, and he felt redness creeping up his cheeks. The way he looked with the makeup on was otherworldly and perfect, but Newt was almost scared... he knew that he could never do that, never be like Walt was for Irene or Bess was for Queenie. He could only hope that Credence would still want him, just plain old Newt.

Credence slipped on the dress and turned around with a flourish. He saw Newt looking at the floor, and terror struck him. Was he that off-put? Credence felt all of his self-consciousness creeping back, and he felt like an idiot, a embarrassement, a malformity.

“Can I look?” Newt asked, still staring at the floor. Silence. “Credence…?” He looked up. “Oh, Credence,” he mumbled, swiftly moving to him and putting warm hands on his shoulders. 

“I’m sorry, this is all just stupid,” Credence said to the floor. “I’m sorry.”

His voice had an awful mechanical quality to it.

“No, love, please, look at me,” Newt said as he rubbed his hand up Credence’s bare arm. Credence obliged. “You’re amazing, you’re beautiful. Please, believe me, I’ve never seen anything quite so magnificent.”

The earnestness in Newt’s eyes was miraculous to Credence. He looked like he was gazing upon the eight wonder of the world, not some skinny man in a dress. It was mesmerizing. 

“Dance with me?” Credence breathed.

Newt hesitated for a long instant. “Alright,” he whispered finally. He placed a hand on Credence’s lower back, and let their hands intertwine on the other side. Slowly, gradually, they began to move together. Credence was unbelievably elegant—it was as though the dress and the makeup allowed him to do what he had always restrained before. They swayed slowly across the wooden floor, illuminated by a gentle moonlight coming in through the window. Credence’s eyes sparkled like two great stars.

Their lips met carefully, and the dancing was abruptly staid. For minutes, hours, days, they stood locked together, arms pulling them closer and closer together until it would seem that they were one. In the end, they pulled themselves up the ladder and into the bedroom, where the passion slowly gave way to exhaustion. With a glance, they agreed silently that it was time for bed.

Credence reluctantly went to take his dress off, and wash his face. The mascara left black circles over his eyes, an image that didn’t exactly rouse happy memories. He returned to the bedroom in his normal pajamas, feeling rather as though he’d awoken from a dream state. And yet, there was Newt, his face still flushed, waiting on the bed. He looked at Credence with the same softness in his gaze, that same gaze that Queenie gave Bess. 

Credence lay down in the bed, and found himself encircled by warm arms and the smell of earth and wood. It occurred to him that this was what it was like to be home.

And so they slept, like they were in their own tiny, private world, just the two of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> whew! that was like twice as long as normal and i stayed up way too late writing it. actually, i didn't even beta it. sorry. will do that later. i just had to get all that out. my boys!!! finally happy!!!!

**Author's Note:**

> So this was brought on by a couple things: first, I saw Ezra Miller's jaw-dropping, binary-destroying photoshoot for Paper magazine (http://www.papermag.com/this-is-not-a-story-about-a-wallflower-1426239283.html) and him answering questions about gender identity (http://www.out.com/entertainment/movies/2012/08/15/ezra-miller-im-queer). Then I saw Eddie Redmayne talking about playing a trans woman in The Danish Girl (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ck1r9KMzPyg&t=429s) which was so respectful and he corrected the interviewer on terminology and honestly I almost cried. Also the title is a quote from the movie.  
> Anyway. I have a lot of feelings about this whole topic. Hope you enjoyed. More queer credence is coming up. Also possibly Newt. Also also some 1920's underground gay new york culture. Maybe drag queens. stay tuned.


End file.
